


All Things Lead

by polotiz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 5x11, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polotiz/pseuds/polotiz
Summary: My offering to the flurry of amazing post-5x11 fiction that's out there. Sara/Ava centric, blindfold territory.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 20
Kudos: 120





	All Things Lead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyXana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyXana/gifts).



> Loved 5x11 so much, as many of us writers did, and chose to do a wrap-up. Ava and Sara doing things... differently as only they do.
> 
> Also inspired by a tumblr post by landsofwinter:
> 
> "Omg, what if Sara had a vision of blindfold sex first? And she was like, who am I to argue with destiny..."

“Let’s go.”

She pushes you forward, palm square between your shoulder blades, and had you not just heard the words that had catapulted your heart somewhere into the conduits underneath your feet you would have wondered if maybe… just maybe… she could see you after all.

You’re expecting to turn right, because that’s the way to your quarters and the inevitability of the conversation you’re _not_ ready to have about Gideon’s news. You’re so physically committed you swerve even as she bunches her fist into your shirt and forces you _left_ , a push, a pull and a tug and you spend an instant in silent remembrance for the stress-ironing you’d done earlier that morning.

“Sara-“ You find your voice more like a squeak as she urges you forward, further down the corridor to gods-know-where and she’s pushing you but you know you’re leading her, wordlessly, and you need to know where she wants you to go. Your mind cycles through _library_ and _bridge_ and _mess hall_ and even stutters past _bathroom_ for barely a second before you pull yourself up short and plant your feet in place. “-where are we going?“

She’s already stumbled into you, the hand at your back tightening in your shirt and you feel a gust of breath at your ear, the full press of her body against your back and all you want to do is turn around, pull her into your arms and whisper every apology you have in your vocabulary for not keeping her safe.

But Sara straightens, steps away, and rests her other hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently to the left and for the first time you realise you’re at a junction.

“Gym.” She answers.

“Sara-“

“ _Now_ , Ava.” Her voice is clipped, and you know the sound of it because you know all her sounds, and you know _what_ , and you know _why_ , and the very knowledge breaks your heart into more pieces than you can stand. And you find yourself standing prone in your own misery until Sara stands on tip-toes, wraps her hand around your waist and gently pries open the fingers of your left hand out of the fist you didn’t realise you had made, linking your fingers together in an embrace you never want to leave.

“Trust me.” She whispers, and the words slide so delicately into your ear you want to wrap them around yourself because you’ve _missed_ her so much and you do… God you _do_.

But you know, deep in your being, even as you lead her there that maybe this time, what you’re trusting is not what she thinks it is.

You lead her anyway.

\--

It’s been days since you’ve been here, and the air feels unusually stale. Sara nudges you into the centre of the sparring mat and leaves you there, and when you turn you find her, her back to you, removing her shoes as if nothing was amiss.

“What are we doing, Sara?” You ask uselessly, because you know _exactly_ what you are doing.

She spins toward you with a smirk and a flourish, and you know that behind that blindfold in any other time you would see the defiance in her eyes.

“Practicing.” She says. “Shoes off.”

You sigh, toeing your shoes off and kicking them into the corner. She’s advancing on you already and you shake your head.

“Sara,” your voice is a warning, and she stops a foot and a half in front of you, hands on her hips.

“Come on, Ava.” She says. “I need to get used to it, and we both know nobody else can take me.”

You do know. The two of you spent the best part of an hour proving it to each other, what seems like a lifetime ago.

“Don’t go easy on me, Sharpe.” She says, lips curling further into a smile. “Give me your best.”

It’s impossible, this feeling is _impossible_. For someone programmed to feel nothing, you’ve run the gamut of every emotion today and it’s left you feeling one step out of sync with the world.

“Sara, stop-“ you’re cut off, shifting your body just in time to dodge an expertly-placed right hook to the face.

“Come _on_ ,” She toys with a couple of searching jabs into the air, dangerously close to your body, and there’s so much calculation in them you are sure Sara knows exactly where she is. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a blind woman.”’

The words twist in your gut.

“ _Sara_ -“ You’re pleading with her now, as you slide out of the way of a sweeping kick to your shins. “I don’t want to fight you-“

“Because I can’t see?” She challenges, feinting right before swinging her leg in a wide arc and you grimace when it connects a little too sharply with your hip, your own reflexes too sluggish to intercept it. “Seems not to be a disadvantage so far.”

She’s so far from the truth that you grit your teeth and retaliate – a wet noodle of a thing – and you know as soon as Sara’s hands grip around your fist that you deserve the elbow lock you end up in, doubled over with her at your back.

“Stop holding back, Ava.” Sara hisses into your ear.

But you shake your head, because your heart is _hurting_.

“Please,” You whisper over your shoulder. “You’ve been gone for days, Sara. I just got you back… I don’t-“

You feel it in the way the air shifts that she’s about to step away from you, and she does, shoving you from her body hard enough to make you stumble.

You can hear the tiny huff that she doesn’t know you’ve learnt to read like a second language, when her lips part and her mouth moves and she doesn’t quite know exactly what to say.

“Am I though?” She asks, so quietly, and you turn to her in just enough time to know you're right and to watch her head lower. “ _Am_ I back? Is this…” She gestures aimlessly at the air. “-is this it?”

You close the distance between the two of you in a single stride until you are hovering just inside her personal space.

“ _No_ , Sara.” You say, but Sara doesn’t lift her head. “No.” You repeat, more softly this time. “I promise, we will find out what’s happened to you.”

“And if we can’t?” 

Your fingers are tangling with hers before you even give yourself permission to move.

“Then we adapt.” You tell her, and your heartbeat slips in time to the metronome of that promise. “I love you, Sara.” You offer up one more, “I love everything you are.”

The soft breath that escapes her lips feels like surrender. 

“What about everything I’m not?” 

You release one of her hands to free yours, which you raise to her chin, tilting her head upward with the lightest of pressure.

“Sara, hey.” You force every word into your smile, because once you were told that people could hear it in someone’s voice, and you want her to feel it more than anyone. “It’s true you’re not a great ironer. And you do sing a little off-key. And you leave wet towels on the floor.”

She snorts weakly and shoves your shoulder with barely enough force to move twist your body. You take it as a victory, until she sighs again.

“But Ava, what if I never-“ She finishes her sentence between the two of you.

You duck your head. “What? My badass Miss League of Assassins?” You offer, gently. “Tell me one thing you can’t do blindfolded.”

“I can’t see _you_.”

It wasn't what you expected and your breath catches in your throat. You have so many feelings about that simple truth that threatens to rip into your chest with a reckoning force, but you stare at the woman in front of you, at _the love of your life_ in front of you, and she’s hurting and you didn’t protect her then but you’re damn well going to figure out how to do it now.

“Hey.” You step even closer to her, and an idea forms so quickly, so completely in your mind that for a moment you question its origin. You reach for her hand. “Sara, do you trust me?” You ask, linking your fingers again, loosely, as slowly, you let your forehead lower to hers.

Sara gasps at the contact and steps away, and the action would hurt if you didn’t understand it now.

“Hey, no.” You pull her toward you again, “That future is over. You saved us.”

She shakes her head. “I know, but-“

“It happens, when you touch people right?” You jiggle your fingers in hers. “We’re touching now.”

“Yeah.” She answers. “But it can happen any time, usually when I least want it to.”

You lean closer.

“What if you _wanted_ it to?” You ask softly, and the way she tilts her head towards you tells you everything you needed to know.

“Do you trust me?” You ask her again.

“Ava what if-“

“You’ll protect me. Just like you did before.”

“But I-“

“Don’t go far, Sara. Just to a minute beyond this moment, alright?” You can feel her breath, short and shivery against your mouth when you whisper. “Trust me, love.”

She nods, barely perceptible for anyone other than you, because you know by now.

You kiss her.

You kiss Sara and it’s _everything_ , because only twelve hours ago you weren’t sure you’d be able to again. Because she’s _here_ and she’s _alive_ and she trusts you enough to navigate this, and trust from Sara Lance is worth more than any alternate future. You feel her intake of breath, and you pour everything into the slide of your lips, the gentle press of your tongue against hers when she lets you.

Within moments you feel it, and _hear_ it, the tiny sound at the back at Sara’s throat and suddenly her hands are tangled in the collar of your shirt, twisting the material tightly in her fingers as she presses closer to you, presses her tongue more firmly into your mouth, pulling you so tightly to her with a force only she can muster and you try your best to control the sob that escapes you because for the first time since that house in England, your heart is beginning to beat whole again.

Your lungs have begun to burn when you finally break apart. Your eyes are still closed, and you startle a little when you feel her fingertips trace your eyelids.

“Your eyes are so blue.” She murmurs.

You chuckle, a rumbling sound you know she can feel. “So are yours, babe.”

“There was always something about them. Even when I hated you.”

“You hated me??” You ask, voice knowingly indignant.

“Never enough.” Comes the soft answer.

“Sap.”

Her fingertips drift down across your face she catches on the side of your cheek and you hear her exhale.

“You’re smiling.”

“I am.” You answer, because of course you do. “You’ve made me smile for longer than you know.”

You feel the heat of her body flush against yours, and there is nothing about the unexpected touch of her free hand to your hair that makes you anything other than safe. Sara sighs, her hands sliding to your shoulders, and returns her forehead to yours.

“You’re beautiful, Ava.” She whispers, before adding- “And _hella_ sexy with only this blindfold on-“

“ _Sara_!” You pull back, faced with an impish smile that makes you roll your eyes. “-I said a _minute_ ahead-“

“Who says it isn’t?” Sara’s fingers slide _very deliberately_ down the front of your body and you hiss at the contact. Before you know it, she is undoing the knot at your waist and your body responds so viscerally it’s almost embarrassing.

You cover her hand with your own to still her movements before she can finish, because you’re fairly certain exhibitionism is not in your future.

Sara’s face is turned upward to yours, her head tilted and everything about her posture reads like she is studying you from behind her blindfold. Her smile softens, and then she is lifting herself up on her tip-toes, kissing you softly. The kiss lingers, and you wonder if she is using it to see you again.

And it hits you then, in that moment, that if this is to be your destiny – lingering kisses and promises of the future – how can this be anything more than perfect? The realisation settles so profoundly in your soul you can’t help but feel overwhelmed, can’t help the shimmering in your eyes when you open them to warm breaths and the taste of her in your mouth.

“I love you, Ava Sharpe.” Sara murmurs, her fingertips tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks with precision. Maybe she’d seen them too. “I’m so, _so_ in love you with you.”

Coming from someone who sees the future the confession seems… grander somehow, and it fills your heart to almost bursting.

“Now-“ Sara shakes off the moment with a shrug and rocks back on her heels, tangles her fingers in yours and tugs you toward the entrance, shoes forgotten. “-I’m going to take my sexy girlfriend to bed.” And the swoop of your stomach almost renders you motionless when adds with a grin-

“I have someone’s destiny to fulfil.”


End file.
